


We Shadows Have Offended

by ayselz



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayselz/pseuds/ayselz
Summary: — a very pretentious and ambitious theater club!AU, written as the author's gift to herself; complex and absurd, with just a sprinkle of violence and death, you are welcome.as what chesa de la torre says: “Come one, come all!”(basically just a theater club!AU set in hetalia international academy, one you never knew you needed. full of OC's, so tread on your own behalf.hugely inspired from M.L. Rio's If We Were Villains. special mention: Daniel Handler's The Basic Eight.)





	1. act one

__  

**— ACT ONE —**

_“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_

_such shaping fantasies, that apprehend_

_More than cool reason ever comprehends._

_The lunatic, the lover and the poet_

_Are of imagination all compact.”_

_— A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ Act V, Scene I


	2. prologue

 

The curtain fell.

Thunderous applause by the audience—who have opted even to get onto their feet—erupted shortly, filling the _Curiae_ with the evidence of opening night’s success. It was the first of many nights ticked out of the whole duration of Hetalia International Academy’s spring production of _Romeo and Juliet._

Maybe it was the adrenaline rush brought on by the generous feedback of their audience on her first lead role, but Raina found herself beginning to look forward to the rest of the showcase nights. For days building up to tonight she was encased in a cocoon of stress and worry, thinking that she would never live up to the worth of Juliet’s role. Yet here she was, waiting in the wings, waiting for her cue for the curtain call, with a theater full of people cheering for her, and wanting to see her again.

It was thrilling; it was all worth it. After suffering through secondary roles all throughout her first years of high school, now she was the leading lady.

She even allowed herself a tiny fantasy: as the rumors circulating all said that the Club would be doing _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ for the next production, Raina imagined herself playing her dream role, Queen Titania. In her mind, she was already bedazzled with glitter and sparkling highlighter, her freckles covered with tiny gemstones, and she was dressed in a sheer dress the color of a threaded rainbow, and delicately-woven crown of flowers sat atop her hair, which would also be braided with bright ribbons and tiny buds.

She would even dye her hair blonde, if needed be.

A hand slipped into hers, and squeezed. Blinking away the daydream of technicolor dresses and sweet-smelling flower crowns, she raised her chin to properly look at him. Raimonds may be a year younger than her, but he towered over her, which sometimes frustrated her. Today, however, she had no time for getting frustrated.

He was beaming at her. “Come on! Fuck the cue. You’re my sister, and I’m so, so proud of you tonight!” As he pulled her from the wings and into the stage, she was envisioning him as either Puck or Lysander.

Fuck the cue was what Raimonds did, exactly. He led her to the middle of the extras—younger years who have served as the background to the higher years’ stars, as what Raina herself had done before—disregarding the previously arranged blocking. He raised their joined hands, then swept into a graceful bow, with her doing the same. The applause got even louder.

Someone else put a hand over her shoulder. She inclined her head sideways, surprised to see Viktor—her Romeo for tonight—staring at her intensely. Like he always did. “You did well,” he muttered. He was not a man of many words, Viktor Braginsky, and a simple compliment from him always meant more than he lets on.

It elicited a flattered chuckle from her. “You too,” she said in return, but Viktor’s dark eyes were already trained on her brother.

Raimonds was still holding onto her hand, yet Raina knew that his mind was racing, that the gears in his brain were turning. She knew that, like her, he’s already looking far into the future, but unlike her, he didn’t dream close; he’s already walking through walkways of fame, bowing under blinding spotlights of actual opera houses, linking arms with veteran actors and actresses. She only served as his anchor to the present, a reminder that, while his dreams would be a reality, they wouldn’t be attainable soon.

So she squeezed his hand again. As if waking from a dream, the wistful look on his face faltered, and he turns to face her and Viktor. “We did it!” he exclaimed, right before pulling both of them into a crushing hug. He was one of the extras tonight actually, but in the grander scheme of things, it didn’t matter.

Raina laughed into Raimonds’ chest, sandwiched between her brother and his boyfriend. Viktor kissed the top of Raimonds’ head.

“Yes, we did it.”

The cheering crowd was forgotten; all she ever heard from that moment onward was the carefree laughter of her brother, and the tiny voice in her mind which vowed to never let that laughter fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story's timeline will jump back and forth, from past to present, and vice versa. To prevent confusion, the author will be using alternating verb tenses as to indicate the timeline without actually saying so. Present verb tenses will signify the present timeline, and past verb tenses will signify the past timeline. This made clear, the author hopes you appreciate the fic in general, and leave criticism below!


	3. chapter one

Enter a long-legged girl by the name of Chesa de la Torre, whose dark, waist-long hair swings in a ponytail behind her. Pyry sighs into his half-eaten sandwich, wondering if she will ever give him a break. Since she has stumbled upon him in the hallway this morning, looking lost—which he totally was, for the record—she has taken it upon herself to be his guide.

“There you are!” She crosses the cafeteria in a few strides, parting the small crowd as if she’s Moses reincarnate. Her right hand waves excitedly in the air. “I’ve been looking over the place for you!” She says, once she’s reached his table. The smile on her face is wide, too wide, and he feels slightly obligated to return it.

So he does. Placing his half-eaten sandwich on the table, he awkwardly gestures at her to sit down. “Well, sorry for making you look for me.” The smile gradually becomes a grimace. “You really didn’t have to do that. But I got hungry, so I figured that I’d get myself something to eat before I go home.”

He also figures that she’d pick up on the hint, that he’s already going home, and that she’d stop bugging him. Of course he can easily tell her that, Chesa doesn’t look like the airhead who won’t understand, but being bluntly honest is unfortunately not one of his strengths.

Chesa waves him off, flashing another smile of hers. He inwardly wonders if it’s perpetually plastered on her face, when she speaks again: “No worries. I know how draining one’s first day at a new school is.” She throws a conspiratorial wink his way, and he fights a flinch at the brazenness of it. She doesn’t seem to notice, because she carries on, “But you can eat while walking, yes? I still have to show you the  _ Curiae _ !”

His brows knit. Apparently he won’t be going home yet, as this girl has planned even his post-class itinerary. This Chesa takes as confusion, as she immediately launches into an explanation.

“We call the theater the  _ Curiae _ ,” she says, and he fights the urge to tell her that he  _ knows. _ “It’s one of the keystones of this place actually, as Hetalia International will never be as popular as it is if it wasn’t for its theater club.”

He picks his sandwich up again, all the while nodding absently, resigning himself to his fate. “Yeah, it is.” He’s seen the production of  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ last spring _ ,  _ and it’s one of the reasons why he’d agreed with his parents’ decision to transfer him here. “I don’t remember seeing you last year, but your Romeo and Juliet were both great.”

A shadow passes across Chesa’s face so quickly, he thinks he must have imagined it. Her smile falters for a second, but once he blinks, it’s back in place. Even a notch brighter than before. “Raina and Viktor always delivered well,” she says. “So, let’s go see the  _ Curiae,  _ Pyry?” He has to give it to Chesa, for being that deft at changing topics.

Without waiting for him to follow, Chesa slides out of seat and flits out of the cafeteria. Pyry sighs to himself, stuffing his sandwich into his mouth. He grabs his backpack by the strap, idly swinging it over his shoulder, and hurries after her.

This isn’t how he’d envisioned his day would go.

He falls into step with her once he reaches the hallway, finding her already rambling about the upcoming auditions for  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ . Apparently she’ll be trying out for Helena’s part, which strikes Pyry odd.

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, too uncharacteristic for you?” he cuts her off. The sandwich is gone in three bites, so he stuffs the empty wrapper into his pocket. “You’re too  _ happy  _ to play someone whose love is unrequited.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’m an actress for a reason, Pyry,” she says simply with a tiny laugh, and Pyry begins to question the impression he’s made of her. Maybe the smile isn’t as real as she makes it seem.

He stays quiet for the rest of the walk, feeling a little guilty for having judged her so soon. She prattles on happily beside him, and he’s half-listening to her talk about how fun the next production will be, how much she hopes that she gets the role she wants. They pass by a few hallways lined with lockers and sparsely-scattered students milling about, until at last they reach a set of towering wooden doors.

“Welcome to the  _ Curiae _ ,” Chesa says, pushing the doors open with exaggerated ceremony. The fact that she’s able to push two heavy doors open with her skinny arms is yet another surprise for Pyry; he really needs to stop mentally underestimating this girl. “You may have seen it in its lit up splendor, but never in its barely-lit, quiet mystery.” She’s almost swallowed by the darkness of the theater, and she beckons him to follow. “Come one, come all!”

The  _ Curiae  _ is bathed in semidarkness, giving Pyry the impression of perpetual nighttime. He pulls the doors closed again behind him, and turns around. Only the lights overhead the stage are on, and under them, in the middle of an otherwise barren stage, stands Juliet.

“Oh,” Chesa’s voice has dropped into a whisper. She grabs Pyry by the arm, and shushes him harshly when he so as much squeaks in protest. “Raina’s practicing. Let’s watch her first, then interrupt later.”

Right, her name is Raina, and not Juliet. He lets himself be led through the darkness, through the empty theater seats. They occupy ones a few rows away from the stage, as to not distract Raina with their presence.

Even when they’re settled in, Raina still hasn’t begun speaking. All this time her eyes are closed, her head tilted skyward to face the glare of the yellow lights. Her brown hair is done up in a messy bun, with stray strands cradling her face. Her hands are still on her sides, and she looks like she’s not even breathing.  _ Ethereal _ ; even if he’s no poet, that’s the only word which has popped into his mind to describe her.

Chesa leans forward slightly. Pyry finds himself doing the same.

_ “These are the forgeries of jealousy. _

_ And never, since the middle summer’s spring, _

_ Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, _

_ By pavèd mountain, or by bushy brook, _

_ Or in the beachèd margent of the sea,” _

Her voice dies down into a tiny whisper, yet still audible over the hush of the theater, then carries out loudly again into a shout, and her eyes snap open. Chesa gasps softly, and Pyry’s too shocked to even react.

Panic starts gnawing at him when Raina stops speaking. He’s worried that she may have seen him and Chesa, and that she’s distracted by their presence. He moves to nudge Chesa and tell her about his worries, but backtracks when he realizes that she’s too engrossed in Raina’s monologue to be bothered. Raina resumes right away anyway, and it makes him feel a little stupid. Of course, actors and their dramatic pauses.

He glances back at her, then, at how she laments the transformation of a beautiful world from paradise to desolation, and how it is hers, as well as an unseen Oberon’s, fault. In the past he has seen depictions of this monologue, the actresses breaking down in tears mid-speech, agony stabbing to one’s gut with their words, but he finds none of that in Raina’s portrayal. Hers is of cold, stale anger; a vengeful Titania, her sorrow laced with hatred. He finds himself trying to remember how she’d delivered Juliet, two seasons ago, and is amazed at how she’d gone from a meek, darling lady, to a vindictive Faerie queen.

_ “And this same progeny of evils comes _

_ From our debate, from our dissension. _

_ We are their parents and original.” _

There’s a lingering echo of her closing words, and she ducks her head. He isn’t sure if she’s crying, but her shoulders are shaking gently. Chesa rises to her feet with an overjoyed whoop, clapping enthusiastically.

“That’s my girl! Hey, Raina!” Without warning, she pulls Pyry up again. He silently wonders if he’ll spend the rest of his high school life being dragged around by Chesa, as she does drag him towards the foot of the stage.

Raina raises her head. She hasn’t been crying, after all, just breathing in deeply and coming down from being the Fairy Queen. Sweat shines on her forehead, and she wipes it carelessly with her arm before taking a seat at the edge of the stage. Her feet dangle in the air, and she now wears a lopsided smile. “Hello to you too, Chesa.”

“This is Pyry. Transferee.” Chesa nods at Pyry first, then at Raina. “And this is our star, Pyry. Juliet Capulet herself, and a bunch of semi-important roles I don’t remember anymore.” Her grin is on full wattage as she nudges him lightly on the shoulder. “You said you liked her Juliet, right?”

Heat rises to his cheeks. “I don’t… I mean, I did like her Juliet, but I don’t think I’ve told you that.” Or maybe he did, and he just doesn’t remember?

Chesa shrugs, a graceful rolling of her shoulders, a smug smirk on her face. “Now you do.”

Raina’s laughter is short, sudden, and airy, like how a Fairy Queen herself will laugh. It makes his blush deepen, and he’s somehow glad that the yellow lighting of the stage doesn’t do much to provide illumination to the theater. “Enough with it, Chesa. It’s already torture to be a transferee in senior year, don’t embarrass him further.”

She jumps down from the stage. She’s about a foot shorter than him and Chesa both, apparently, which isn’t obvious while she was upstage earlier. The way she’d carried herself as the Fairy Queen has made her seem taller, neither costume nor high heels needed. Also there’s a smattering of freckles on her face, which isn’t strikingly obvious from afar.

There’s a strange urge to pat her head as she’s so tiny compared to him, but Pyry decides against it. 

“Have you been practicing that whole summer? It looks flawless already.” As soon as Chesa says it, her face pinches with regret. Pyry doesn’t understand why, but the way Raina suddenly tenses up is an indication that something is wrong. “I… sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Raina remains rigid however, even after she conjures a tiny, reassuring smile. “No. That’s the first time I’ve said that speech aloud.” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind an ear, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but her eyes shine with something like tears for a moment. She turns her cheek away, and it’s gone. “I have to go. You two should as well.”

Neither he nor Chesa move. They watch Raina walk away, her footsteps echoing and herself not looking back even once. As soon as the great doors of the  _ Curiae  _ close behind her, he hears Chesa let out a loud sigh. He turns to look to her.

“That was really careless of me.” Under the wan yellow light, her face is ashen. One will not associate her with the ball of ecstatic energy she was a few minutes ago, which makes Pyry silently wonder if this is the case with all actors: if their emotions only consist of the extremes.

He mentally shakes himself out of it, dumbly realizing that he’s still in conversation with Chesa. “Sorry for asking, but why?” he asks, not really sorry, but definitely intrigued.

Chesa blinks at him, looking surprised at the question. “You don’t know?” She looks contemplative now, but the frown remains plastered on her face. “It’s all in the news last summer. Her brother fell from the clock tower with his boyfriend. Viktor died, but Raimonds is in coma for more than a month now.”

“Oh, God.” Suddenly the darkness of the theater isn’t mysterious anymore, but ominous. Pyry knows the names, of course, as they’re written in the posters advertising  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ before. Viktor himself even got an individual poster, as he was Romeo. “I didn’t know that,” he says, unable to think of anything better to say.

Apparently Chesa’s feeling the same, as she remains silent for about a whole minute, until the darkness and the eerie silence of the theater has gotten into her as well, and she drags him out wordlessly, back into the brighter hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author will be updating the character tags as soon as they pop into the story. : D But, for reference, here are they:
> 
> Raina — 2P!Nyo!Latvia  
> Raimonds — 2P!Latvia  
> Viktor — 2P!Russia  
> Chesa — Manila!OC  
> Pyry — Finland
> 
> (I owe the name Pyry from my friend Xora, hehehez. And, see what I did there? Yep. Manila!OC. I love my bubbly girl.)


	4. chapter two

_ “This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.”  _ A solo cup appeared, as if birthed by darkness itself, and made its way into her grasp. Raina looked up, surprised at having her solitary time interrupted, to see Erik standing in front of her with a cup of his own. His fair hair almost glowed under the starlight. “I thought you were missing inside, so I looked for you.”

She chuckled softly, before taking a sip of the drink. Beer. She made a disgusted face, and instantly handed him the cup back. “How thoughtful of you, Paris,” she said jokingly, then turned away from him to face the stars again. “Although that quote is from  _ King Lear.  _ Are you practicing for a future production?” She knew that while some of the Club were content to leave the stage after graduating high school, some of them would be pursuing it as a career. And she also knew that Erik was one of the latter.

As for Raina? Well, she never really had thought about it. If Raimonds wanted to continue acting, then she would support him; but for herself, maybe she would take a different path after high school. Honestly, she hadn’t been giving the future a thought as of now. She would cross the bridge when she got there.

Erik’s grin was a little bashful when he replied: “Can I tell you a secret?”

“You  _ can.  _ But you haven’t asked me if you  _ may. _ ”

He made a frustrated noise, which made her chuckle once more. “Raina…”

“I’m kidding!” she squealed, and forced herself to be serious. “Okay. I’m done laughing now. What secret?”

“Remember first year?  _ The Merchant of Venice?”  _ Her face took on a wistful expression at that, which made him stop speaking for a moment. With Raina, it was almost always difficult to tell if she was with them in reality, or if she was in Shakespeare’s universe. “I think you do. Well, I didn’t know about the Club’s tradition then, so I used a speech from  _ Lear.” _

She squeaked in surprise, turning to him with wide, curious eyes. “Seriously? Oh, God. I used one from  _ Troilus and Cressida!” _

They dissolved into light laughter. How far away their first real production was—for Raina, all productions wherein she appeared as an extra, and all productions not done in high school, were merely rehearsals for the real things—and now they were already about to enter their last year of high school. How far she and Erik had gone, honestly, from attending weekend acting classes when they were still in primary school, to going to the same acting camps in middle school summers, and, now, they led Shakespearian productions together.

Her head began to spin. Pressing a palm against her temple, her laughter died into a weak, pained whimper, and she leaned against the banister to steady herself. The coldness of the night wasn’t a comfort anymore; it only seemed to worsen her sudden headache.

“Raina? Are you okay?” Erik’s voice was filled with concern. He held her by the arms, steadying her. He repeated her name twice, until she inclined her head to look at him. “I’m taking you inside now, okay? Let’s look for your brother.”

“Yes,” she responded weakly, letting him wound his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go find Raimonds…” Her surroundings were spinning uncontrollably, and it took all of her strength not to pass out or throw up right then and there. Instead, Raina, focused on the warmth radiating off of Erik, and she blindly let him guide her to the balcony door, and back into the party.

She absolutely missed Erik throwing her solo cup over the railing, down into the gaping darkness of the night.


	5. chapter three

 

The rest of his first week is surprisingly uneventful. Apparently the instructors of Hetalia International aren’t oriented on the supposed mellowness of the first week of classes, as they’ve dumped lessons and tons of homework on him. Pyry swears that, in his former school, it would have taken a whole month to accumulate this amount of schoolwork.

He finds out that he’s classmates with Raina in two classes, but she frequently skipped during that first week—his other classmates whisper that it’s because she sneaks out of the school and goes to the hospital—while he only has Chesa in a single class.

Speaking of Chesa: she hasn’t bugged him after that first day.  Pyry will be lying if he says that he doesn’t miss her company, as she’s the closest person he has in the school to a friend, but escaping her grip for a few days is like taking a long sigh of relief. The last actual conversation he’s had with her was two days ago, when he ran into her in the library. She’s told him of a sudden change in audition schedules, amidst a flurry of Filipino he didn’t really understand, and then she was gone in a jiffy. Aside from that, he’s only seen her in passing, and she’d only wave at him hurriedly, before speed-walking away.

So to speak, today has so far been long, and boring. Pyry presses the combination on his locker with slow, stilted motions. A creased, folded paper peeks out from between his books. The sight of it brings a bittersweet smile to his face, and he gently pulls it out into the light.

It’s an invitation card, actually, and he’s lost the binding twine sometime ago, but its contents are branded onto the back of his brain like a mark. After briefly touching the printed design on the cover—an illustration of a crown made of thorns, inked in black—he flips the card open.

“ _ Well met, Pyry Sedric Nieminen. We congratulate you for— _ hey! I was reading it!”

Cheeks flaming with both embarrassment and exasperation, Pyry quickly slides the invitation back into his locker, and slams it shut. Mentally steeling himself as to not lash out or anything, he turns around.  _ Perfect timing,  _ he almost sarcastically blurts out.

Chesa looks really confused. She’s clutching  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ close to her chest, and her brown eyes are wide. “You were King Oberon?”

“Don’t say it too loud—”

In signature Chesa attitude, she pointedly ignores him. “The minimalist theme worked for an additional dash of class. I like it! The ink used should have been gold, though. It’s, you know, more befitting for the King of the Fey?”

“Chesa, wait, stop speaking—”

Yet she does otherwise. “But that’s insane! An invitation to play a part, instead of a boring cast list? I’ll pitch the idea during auditions!”

“Chesa!”

Thankfully, this does get her attention now. She gives an apologetic shrug, before saying, “It was something to think about.” She perks up again, the intrusion she has done seemingly already a thing of the past. “But, you  _ were  _ King Oberon! Seriously, why didn’t you tell me?”

Pyry winces. He’s known that this is how she will react, so he never mentioned in before.  _ Or even thought about _ , he thinks bitterly.

“I didn’t think that it was important. And it’s all done anyway. It’s not like I want to relive it, something like that.” He’s rambles on. “It’s not like I transferred here because I knew about your Club doing  _ Midsummer _ , and I wanted to try doing Oberon again.”

Chesa’s laughter is sudden, definitely not the reaction he expected from her.

“That’s exactly what you should do!” she exclaims. In a quick motion, she’s balanced her book on one arm, and she reaches out to pull him by his sleeve. “Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. Some of us meet there during Fridays, to eat lunch altogether. I’ll introduce you to the rest.”

Red flags rise from somewhere in his mind; he knows that following Chesa to the cafeteria will surely thrust him into getting onto a stage once again—another one of the reasons he’s left his former school, really, he did  _ not  _ expect to be actually casted when he tried auditioning for fun—but, for some reason he cannot entirely comprehend himself, he’s walking after her. Her fingers still hold him at the end of his sleeve.

The cafeteria is teeming with activity and noise when they enter. Not as unruly as his previous school’s, but the noise is still there. Students walk about balancing trays, looking for a vacant spot in the sea of occupied tables. Chesa doesn’t seem to share the dilemma, as she easily guides him towards a table in the middle of everyone.

It’s a long, rectangular table, and upon closer inspection Pyry realizes that it’s actually three normal-sized tables pushed altogether. Two people are already seated, their backs to him and Chesa, but they’re both fair-haired, and he can recognize one of them from his two classes. Erik Nordmann, or something.

Chesa slows down for a moment, leaning towards him to whisper: “We like it in the middle of it all.  _ In medias res _ , if you may. The actors and their spotlight.”

Pyry doesn’t even stop himself from rolling his eyes. She giggles at his reaction, and finally tells him to go take a seat. He hesitates only for a moment, but takes a seat across Erik. Oddly, Chesa chooses to sit beside the girl beside Erik, leaving him alone on that side of the table.

The first thing he notices upon sitting down is that Erik and the girl aren’t eating; their heads are bowed over books, and they’re quickly scribbling in notebooks before them. They also don’t seem to notice his and Chesa’s arrival.

Chesa clears her throat. Simultaneously—too in sync it kind of looked eerie to him—they look up from their books. “Mia, Erik,” she addresses them with a nod, before waving towards Pyry, “meet Pyry! He’s the senior transferee, and I think—”

“Nice to meet you, I guess,” Mia cuts her coldly, sparing Pyry merely a glance. Her eyes are icy blue, like the sky after dawn has passed and the day ahead will surely be clear, but they don’t seem friendly at all. She instantly turns back to her book, probably already deeming Pyry irrelevant.

Chesa’s undeterred. “I think,” she repeats, “that he should try and audition for  _ Midsummer.” _

This gets Mia’s attention again, and she closes her book without sliding a bookmark in. She narrows her eyes at Chesa. “I should’ve known that you’ll never bring someone over just to introduce them to us.”

Erik picks Mia’s book up, and methodically stacks it above his own. “Give Chesa more credit,” he says in a mild tone, and this immediately sets Pyry at ease—at least one of them is nice. His gaze flicks towards Pyry, deep-ocean blue eyes intense. “You have background in theater?”

A simple question, yet it’s enough to unearth previously stamped down memories of being onstage. Pyry awkwardly clears his throat, and nods. “Yeah. We did a gender-bent  _ Julius Caesar  _ last year, and  _ Midsummer  _ the year before.”

Mia leans forward, the earlier disdain in her eyes replaced by grudging interest. “A gender-bent  _ Caesar?  _ That seemed like a wild ride.”

“It was.” Their directors always had the most ludicrous ideas, but they worked out well enough in most cases. “Though it was gender-bent in a way that the girls played the male roles, while us boys played the female roles. In our school, girls outnumber the boys who were invested enough in acting onstage, so that’s how the directors solved the problem.” 

Only Mia has kept her straight face on. Chesa’s hiding her giggling behind a hand, while Erik’s failing at his attempt to not laugh. The embarrassment washes over him like a wave; it takes all of him not to stand up and run far away from the table, but Pyry can bet that his face rivals the color of a ripe tomato now. A brief flash of memory, of the horror of seeing Calpurnia’s supposed costume for the first time—a sheer, cream-colored dress which barely reached his knees—only adds up to the mortification he’s feeling.

(It was also the final straw, the main among all reasons why he’d transferred schools.)

“So, what’s the joke about?” She all but slams her almost empty tray onto the table, but a small smile is on Raina’s face as she occupies the seat across Chesa. 

A tiny part of Pyry is disappointed because she didn’t sit beside him, but, really, why would she do that? They’re not close.

“Raina!” cries Chesa happily, “I didn’t think you’d show up?” Count on her for saying the wrong things at times, Pyry mentally notes to himself.

Raina flinches, but it’s too quick, too barely noticeable. “I wouldn’t miss Fridays with you guys,” she says simply, then looks down at her tray with a frown. On it is a plastic container half-filled with a salad and some carrot sticks, and a dog-eared copy of  _ Romeo and Juliet. _

“Pyry here was telling us about a production they’ve done last year,” Mia says, stealing all attention back to her. “Gender-bent  _ Caesar.” _

For the second time that week, he hears Raina laugh. “That’s insane.” She still hasn’t taken her eyes off her tray. Something seems to click in her, as she suddenly snaps her fingers. “I knew I was missing something. I’ll just get coffee.”

There’s a chorus of muttered “Okay,” and she’s off towards the vending machine by the cafeteria doors. Her book catches Pyry’s attention then, reminding him of the book he’s seen Chesa clutching earlier.

“Why are you all still reading  _ Romeo and Juliet?  _ You’re done with it, right?” 

Erik answers him. “It’s tradition of the Club to audition for the new production using speeches from last year’s play.” Nodding, he hands Mia’s book back to her. “All of us are reviewing  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , trying to see which characters’ dynamics will work for our desired roles in  _ Midsummer. _ ”

Chesa makes an impatient noise. “Our previous seniors told us that it’s a tradition to confuse the directors and the advisers. It will give them a harder time to cast us, and, anyway, not using your desired role’s speech is more thrilling, right?”

No one voices out their agreement; Mia merely rolls her eyes. As for him, he thinks that the tradition is a challenge, but is also a gamble. What if the directors interpreted their portrayals in another way, and give them a role entirely different from what they wanted?  _ As crazy as gender-bent  _ Caesar, he adds solemnly.

“Speaking of  _ Midummer. _ ” It’s Mia who speaks again. She cracks her book open. “Are you going to audition, Pyry?”

Apparently her opinion of him has improved slightly.

“Chesa wants me to audition for King Oberon,” Pyry replies, a little unsure, because personally, he doesn’t want to do it. His love for theater remains, of course, but after last year, he’s decided that, maybe, he prefers to only be a spectator, and not be directly involved in it. “But, I don’t know…”

It’s barely there, but he’s sure that the beginnings of panic are showing on Mia’s face. She’s probably too adept at channeling her inner actress, that she’s able to mask her emotions easily, just a little like Chesa. Though, her eyes are clouded with worry, and even after wordlessly turning towards Erik, it’s still there.

“I can’t believe you’re going to try to steal my role,” Erik says with a chuckle. His tone was light, but it’s there, a faint warning, maybe even an invitation for Pyry to go dare do so. He opens his own book, and a corner of his lips is quirked upwards in a crooked smirk when he adds, “May the better Fairy King win.”

The shift of the atmosphere is drastic; the tension’s almost palpable. Pyry tries meeting Chesa’s eye, but she just shrugs, as if saying that the two are just like that, he doesn’t need to mind them.

Tentatively, he breaks the silence. “I won’t. I really don’t like getting onstage that much.” Neither Mia nor Erik deigns to give him a reply. Suddenly gripped by a growing sense of anxiety, Pyry opens his mouth to add something, but his words are stunted when movement from his peripheral vision catches his attention.

Looking back on it, he will say that it’s as if time had slowed. He sees the can fall first, its dark brown contents spilling onto the cafeteria’s polished floor, then the students, leaping out of the way. Finally there’s Raina, impossibly pale and unconscious, closely following it. 

“Fuck! Raina!” It’s probably Chesa or Mia, he doesn’t know.

Everyone at their table is out of their seat in an instant, pushing away the suddenly gathered crowd to get near to her. Chesa barks at someone to get the nurse, while Erik is asking—ordering, more likely, his tone is mild yet stern—everyone to stand back and give them space.

Pyry himself kneels beside Raina, wanting to reach out and brush the hair covering her most of her face, but Mia elbows him out of the way.

“If you won’t carry her to the clinic, I will,” she says firmly.

“Oh, um. Yeah, sure. You guys clear the way for me?”

Mia nods once, and without saying anything else, stands up. By stupid instinct, Pyry gently takes Raina’s wrist to check her pulse. It’s slow, but steady, which is a good sign, so he thinks. After taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slightly bends over and scoops her up into his arms.

The day is no longer boring, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mia, or more accurately, Mjaðveig Steilsdottír, is 2P!Nyo!Iceland. : o


	6. chapter four

 

Chesa’s wide grin was what welcomed them back into the party. Someone had installed multi-colored strobe lights onto the packed room’s ceiling, and the glow of it made her smile seem manic. Maybe she  _ was  _ already manic, Erik thought to himself as he pulled Raina closer to him, as Chesa’s been drinking endlessly since the party had begun.

Her eyes narrowed almost comically at Raina. “What happened?” she slurred, squinting up at Erik. “She’s drunk?”

“Not any drunker than you, Chesa,” he responds patiently, reaching out to pat her gently on the head. Chesa purred at the touch, which made him chuckle. She was rarely this drunk, honestly, but when she was, she turned into a very clingy, very catlike person. “I think her exhaustion didn’t mix well with the alcohol. And she’s probably standing out in the balcony for a long time, so there’s the cold, too.”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Raina weakly protested, slightly pushing him away. She swayed on her spot, but immediately righted herself. “It’s just a headache, and, yeah, the alcohol.” She wrinkled her nose, not really a huge fan of the drinks most of the student body worshipped.

Clicking her tongue, Chesa stepped around Erik towards Raina, and slung an arm clumsily around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “Come on, you should take a seat. I’ll make the youngsters move away from the damned couch.” She turned to Erik, and winked conspiratorially. “Look for Raimonds or Viktor for me, they can take her home.”

It’s the first time Erik had noticed that Chesa’s eyes seemed puffy, as if she’d been crying before they found her. And maybe she wasn’t as drunk as she seemed, because she guided Raina through the crowd well. A pinch of worry gnawed away at him, but he decided to shrug it off. Whatever Chesa was upset about, she would get over it. That was how resilient she was.

A perk of having a student body with taste as luxurious as Hetalia International’s was that, in parties, there was no obnoxiously loud music. Instead of mind-numbing beats with bass drops which rattled one to the bones, the ones in charge of music put on smooth jazz. Erik was grateful of not having to deal with music-induced headache, but he was also glad that it wasn’t Raimonds manning the music. He definitely, shamelessly, would’ve put on Tchaikovsky.

Speaking of Raimonds, Chesa’s instructed Erik to look for him, alright. Scoffing to himself, he made a detour towards the drinks table first, and poured himself some beer.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and said: “Hey, congrats!” It’s a grinning second year, one he’d only recognized because he had been one of the background characters in their  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ production a month ago. Erik raised an eyebrow quizzically, but the second year continued: “Now that Viktor’s graduated, you’re gonna get the lead roles you’ve always wanted!”

Erik’s smile was clipped.  “Good luck on trying for a lead role next production.”

Bastards who let alcohol take over their manners, really. Half of his beer was gone by the time he reached the stairs. Carved out of stone, the clock tower’s winding stairs were situated by the eastern side, connecting all four floors.

The first floor was rather a barren reception area, with a high vaulted ceiling and some potted plants to give it the impression of life. The second floor was where all parties happen; it’s basically just an old storeroom, spiced up by partygoers in the theme of whatever production has ended. The third floor was more subdued, another old storeroom which sometimes ended up as hiding places for drunken revelers who wanted some time in the darkness. The fourth, lastly, was the where the gears of the clock were, and almost nobody went up there.

Some said that the mechanical ticking of the clock felt like a pulse of some beast’s heart, and it echoing around their skulls almost drove them crazy.

Erik liked it. And listening to the clock tick away, instead of mindlessly looking around for Raimonds or Viktor in that crowd—sure, he worried for Raina, but surely she and Chesa had bumped into either of them already?—was more preferable. He climbed up the stairs two at a time, downing the rest of his beer as he went up.

He was a tiny bit surprised at seeing Mia at the third floor landing. There was minimal light coming from the lone fluorescent bulb attached to the ceiling, and it made her look paler than usual. Her willowy frame shook. She wiped at her lips with a palm.

“I fucked up,” she whispered. Tears leaked out from her eyes, but he  _ knew.  _ “I fucked up real bad. I didn’t know it was Raimonds. Viktor saw us, and—”

His gaze was attracted by the empty vodka bottle on the floor, reflecting what weak light it could. “And he left you alone?” he asked his cousin.

She nodded, slowly. Her eyes darted around them, thinking that someone might be hidden behind the walls, listening in. “I’m scared, Erik.”

He knew all too well what Mia meant. It pained him to see his usually headstrong cousin looking as helpless as that, but what else could he do?

“Don’t be,” he said, finally. He drew her close, letting her cry against his shoulder. Into her hair, he whispered: “Pick the bottle up, and let’s go down. We’ll look for Viktor, and make him understand.”

Her sobs got louder, but eventually she nodded in assent.  _ As if she had any other choice _ , Erik thought darkly to himself.


	7. chapter five

His second to the last class is dismissed early. Before he realizes it, Pyry’s already on his way to the Academy clinic. It’s the worry, he knows, and the curiosity if Raina’s already awake. When he’d carried her into the clinic hours ago, he was immediately driven out by Chesa, telling him that he should head to his next class, and that they could manage things from then on. If she, Mia, or Erik did the same after ensuring that Raina would be okay, Pyry didn’t know.

The clinic is large and spotless, the most part of it hidden behind thick green curtains parted in the middle. There was a worn yet comfortable-looking couch welcoming those who enter, and a humble wooden desk sits at the far end of it. It was trying hard to imitate a hospital ward, which was honestly freaking Pyry out.

He’s surprised to see an unfamiliar blond-haired guy—not as blond as Erik and Mia, whose hair resemble liquid sunlight, the stranger’s more of dull gold—sitting alone on the couch, his right leg jiggling up and down in a dizzying pace. The nurse they’d talk to earlier wasn’t around, and it also doesn’t look like that Raina is already up. The guy seems to sense Pyry staring at him, because he suddenly looks up, his bright blue eyes as clear as a summer sky.

“Hey!” he greets, far too enthusiastic and too cheerful for someone who literally was in a clinic. “You’re Pyry, right? Chesa’s new little pet?”

“Chesa’s  _ what _ ?” he asks incredulously. He’s further stunned into silence when the guy just laughs at his reaction. Pyry has definitely not expected to meet someone on the same caliber as Chesa.

“Just kidding, dude! Just wanted to see how you’d react.” With a wide grin, he holds his palm out. “I’m Alfred. Alfred Jones. Star of the basketball team and all-around hero!”

Pyry takes his hand skeptically, shaking it the slightest before dropping it. Being called a ‘new little pet’ probably does that to a person. “Pyry Nieminen.” To switch topics, he lets his gaze wander around the clinic. “The nurse is not here?”

Alfred shrugs innocently. “I think she’s going out for a smoke, or something.” He pauses a bit, and when he speaks again, he sounds offended. “But, hey! I can watch over Raina. It’s not like she’ll run away!”

“You’re here because of Raina?” 

“’Course,” he answers rather absently, his offense having melted away. “Mia texted me. My second to last class is gym anyway, and when you’re on the team, the instructor kind of lets you get away with some skipping every now and then.” 

“Is that so…” Pyry really is at a loss for anything else to say, so he’s beyond relieved when Alfred’s phone beeps loudly from his pocket. It also makes him wince somewhat; is everything about this guy  _ loud _ ?

“Ouch.” The grimace on Alfred’s face is genuine when he reads the text, and he slides his phone back into his pocket without composing a reply. He turns to Pyry with an apologetic expression. “I gotta run. Classmate’s told me that last period’s maybe having a pop quiz, so.”

He just nods in assent. “It’s okay. I can keep watch here until the nurse comes back.”

Alfred’s grin is back again, as bright as the sun after a horrible storm. “Thanks, dude! Text me if Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up!” As he good-naturedly claps Pyry on the back on his way out of the clinic, Pyry almost says that he doesn’t have Alfred’s number, so how can he text him?

A blanket of quietness immediately wraps around the clinic once Alfred’s gone.  _ Worse than Chesa, then _ , Pyry mentally decides, as he finally sits down on the couch. No sooner after he’s stretched his legs in front of him does one side of the parted green curtains move.

“Alfie’s gone now?” comes out weakly from the other side. The curtain is yanked to the side, and Raina’s revealed, still sickly pale, but she’s sitting up and grinning slightly. “I really would have loved to sleep in, but he’s so loud.”

He gives her an awkward chuckle in reply. “Well, yeah.”

She kicks her socked feet back and forth. He looks down at them, distracted, and faintly amused at the colorful flowers printed on them. She clears her throat, then, and when he looks back up to meet her gaze, he’s almost taken aback.

A mischievous look is on her face, an expression Pyry has never thought she’d ever have. Him and his prejudice of these theater kids, really. “Say, Pyry,” she begins slowly, voice weak yet teasing, “Let’s run lines in the  _ Curiae _ ? I am growing rather bored, and I’ve eaten all the food Erik and Mia left for me.”

True enough, there’s empty sandwich wrappers peeking out from under the blanket haphazardly draped over her lap. But the better part of Pyry’s brain berates him that taking Raina to the  _ Curiae  _ will most likely be taxing on her, not to mention running lines.

Raina tilts her head slightly sideways, and he realizes that she’s still waiting for him to answer.

“No,” he says firmly, finally. Her face falls at that, and he almost takes his answer back. “You’ll probably faint again, or worse.”

She tuts softly, her kicking feet slowing to a halt. “You can always carry me back here.” The confidence in her tone is what makes him blush, that’s what he tells himself, not the thought of scooping her into his arms for the second time this day. Apparently Raina isn’t the sweet, if rather flighty, actress he’d thought she was. She’s also someone who’s used to getting things her way.

Pyry shakes his head. “Sorry, but no.” Aside from the possibility of her fainting again, there’s also the even realer possibility of Chesa, Erik, Mia, and now Alfred ganging up on him if they find out that he was partly responsible for Raina’s hypothetical fainting spell. Erik and Mia may be tolerable, but Chesa and Alfred sound like something out of a nightmare. He tries not to shudder, thinking about it.

Raina simply huffs. “Fine, then.” He quietly stares at her as she seems to cook up something in that mind of hers, then she perks up. Her smile is almost blinding. “We can run lines here instead!”

“We can  _ what  _ here?”

Too late; she’s already hopped off the bed, and she’s now precariously making her way towards him. “It’s just a simple mind exercise,” she says. “And think of it as charity. You’re helping me practice for Titania.”

He gets up from the couch, then, and steps toward her to meet her halfway. “I’m not trying out for Oberon,” he stresses. When Raina’s at arm’s length she wobbles, so he holds her by both arms to steady her.

She grins up at him gratefully. “You know this. Act four, scene two.” Raina takes a step back, her hands falling listlessly to her sides. He’s seen this before; it’s how she’d looked when he and Chesa watched her practice last Monday.

Her eyes fall closed. 

Slowly, Pyry eases his hold on her. He lets his hands settle at his sides as well, mirroring Raina, but his eyes never leave her face. There are dark circles under her eyes, telltale signs of lack of rest, and he absently wonders if she’d really spent her afternoon in here sleeping, or staring mindlessly at the ceiling.

Her freckles seem to form constellation against her skin, and his fingers itch to touch them, to count them silently, and—

“Ready when you are,” she says softly, almost breathlessly. He has to shake himself out of it.

He doesn’t remember all of Oberon’s lines anymore, honestly. But there’s something in the serenity of Raina’s expression which forces him to try remembering, as if he subconsciously wants to be at the same level as her, or just try to.

Pyry takes a deep breath.

“ _ Be as thou wast wont be. _

_ See as thou wast wont to see.” _

Her lips slowly quirk into a grin. He takes this as unspoken encouragement, and he goes on.

_ “Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower _

_ Hath such force and blessèd power. _

_ Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen.” _

It’s like a hummingbird taking flight, the way she opens her eyes. Far from the vengeful Titania he had witnessed earlier this week, Raina’s Titania today is parts amused and parts confused—although he’s sure that her amusement stems from him, and not from her part. Her gaze zeroes in on something beyond his shoulder, and her eyebrows furrow together.

“ _ My Oberon, what visions have I seen! _

_ Methought I was enamored of an ass.” _

Pyry’s about to say the next lines when Raina holds a hand up, her expression melting away into a sheet of annoyance. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I can see you trying to hide behind the doorframe, Chesa.” 

Chesa emerges then, peeking through the doorway with a sheepish smile on her face. Of course she has the guts to feel sheepish; she just basically ruined his moment with Raina.

“I heard him speaking Oberon from the hallway,” the offending girl says breezily, stepping away from the threshold and into the clinic, gesturing towards Pyry as she does so. “So I hid for a while. I wanted to hear if he did the role justice, you know.”

Pyry doesn’t miss the look Chesa gives him as she passes by him to take Raina’s hands. A look that holds warning, but regarding what, he doesn’t know.

“He did the role justice, as far as I know.” Raina, on the other hand, still sounds annoyed. She lightly slaps Chesa’s hand away when it comes up to brush strands of hair out of her hair. “But I would’ve been able to judge better, if you didn’t interrupt.”

He can’t see Chesa’s expression, but he practically hears her grin when she says: “That’s what I do best, and you know it. Now, back to bed. I passed by the nurse in the quad on my way here. If she catches you walking about, she’ll whip your ass.”

Raina rolls her eyes hard. Pyry fails at holding back a snort.

“She won’t do that,” Raina says stubbornly, but complies anyway. She lets herself be helped by Chesa back onto the bed, and remains quiet even when the curtain is pulled to hide her from view. 

He wonders if the simple task of running a line really has worn her out.

Chesa’s grin is instantly replaced by a frown when she turns around to face him. “We need to talk,” she says, keeping her voice low. It’s the first time he’s heard her talk like that.

“About what?”

She looks back at the drawn curtain first, her eyes softening, then she shakes her head. “I have things to clear up. I never expected that out of all of us, it’s Raina who would be this interested in you.”

“Wait, what?” Raina is  _ interested  _ in him?

Chesa rolls her eyes, hard. “I’m taking you to the tower today.”


	8. act two

**  
**

**ACT TWO**

 

_ “Better be _

_ with the dead, _

_ Whom we, to gain our peace, _

_ have sent to peace, _

_ Than on the torture of the mind _

_ to lie _

_ In restless ecstasy.” _

_ — Macbeth _ , Act III, Scene 2


	9. chapter six

The world was quiet yards away from the clock tower.

It was as if he had been transported to another world, one where he hadn’t witnessed what happened in the third floor.  _ Cowardly _ , someone would say, the act of running away instead of resorting to confrontation. And Viktor was not a coward, at least, that was how he viewed himself.

He took a drag of his cigarette. Through its smoke he could see the light spilling out of the second floor, where all members of the Theater Club, current and newly-graduated, resumed on their drunken revelry, wholly oblivious to his despair.

Whenever he closed his eyes for longer than a moment, he saw Raimonds’ face under the wan light. He was pleading, stuttering through an explanation, but Viktor coldly dismissed him and stalked out of the tower. Mia shook with quiet, guilty sobs behind, and even now, Viktor could not find it in himself to take pity on her.

How many minutes had passed, anyway? Thirty? An hour? This was his last stick, and as far as he remembered, he had at least half a pack on him when he descended the tower. Still, Viktor could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin. How badly he had wanted to blindly lash out earlier, yet his feelings for both Raimonds and Mia still tethered him; he loved Raimonds more than anything in this world, of course, and Mia was almost like a little sister to him.

In retrospect, however, she looked really surprised when he flipped the light on, and she was the one who pushed Raimonds away.

But did this erase what they’ve done? No, not at all. For all he knew, they might only be acting. All of them were actors, after all.

There was the sound of grass crunching from behind him. Bracing himself for the worst, Viktor dropped the rest of his cigarette on the ground, and stubbed it out with a foot.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” Only one person in the Club had that cheerful voice. Viktor released a sigh he didn’t know he held, and turned around to face Alfred.

“I don’t have the time.”

A crazed grin painted itself on Alfred’s face, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m just wondering why I haven’t seen you and Raimonds together,” he said, blatantly ignoring the way Viktor tensed up. “Is this a lover’s spat I’m smelling?”

He scoffed. “Whatever it is, it’s not your damned business. Why are you out of the tower anyway? Looking for stray dicks to suck?”

In signature Alfred fashion, he merely let out an obnoxious laugh at Viktor’s jab. “Dude, I never knew you thought of me like that!” He shook his head, and when he looked back up at Viktor, his eyes flashed with something Viktor couldn’t put a finger on. “On a serious note, though. Chesa’s looking for you. She’s in reception with Raina.”

“What happened?” he asked with a frown. They rarely went down from the party, where the drinks and music were, to reception. 

Alfred shrugged, the movement more of a stiff jerk of his shoulders than anything. “I’m not sure. But she asked me if I saw you or Raimonds around.”

“Raimonds isn’t with them?” Even saying his name felt like a punch to the gut; Viktor lightly bit his tongue to stem more words from flowing out.

“Dude.” Alfred’s voice sounded impatient. “I don’t know! Why not check on them?”

He flinched. That exactly was what he didn’t want to do. But he suspected Alfred knew nothing of what had transpired in the third floor, and Viktor was determined to keep it that way, so he would act like everything was fine, and he would check on Chesa and Raina.

“Fine.”

Without looking back to see if Alfred watched him walk away, Viktor trudged on back to the tower. It loomed in the darkness, its round face barely illuminated. The balconies jutted out of the sides, one for each floor except reception, all unfinished wooden platforms with makeshift railings. A familiar, familiar structure; it had housed all parties of the theater club as much as he remembered, yet tonight, it looked ominous.

Or maybe it was just the thought of Mia kissing Raimonds, her pale fingers entangled in his dark hair, which clouded his perspective.

Reception was dimly-lit with half-heartedly put up fairy lights on the wall, but Viktor made out Chesa’s and Raina’s faces well. They sat on the lone couch, the low wooden crate in front of them littered with bottles.

“What happened?” he asked Chesa, because Raina looked like she would pass out any moment soon.

Chesa sighed deeply, as she shook her head. “She just got dizzy all of a sudden. Probably skipped meals again.”

Despite himself, Viktor’s brows furrowed together in worry. He approached them, crouching so he could see Raina better in the weak light. He placed a palm on her forehead, and was relieved when she wasn’t hot to the touch.

“She isn’t burning up. Maybe it’s because of skipped meals.”

“Thank fucking God,” Chesa murmured. She pressed the heel of her palm to an eye, sagged against the couch. When she smiled at him, it was only as bright as the fairy lights. “Let’s take her home? Promise we can come back here if you want to.” 

Viktor didn’t answer. Not in the way that Chesa expected him to, that was. It was maybe because Raina wasn’t conscious enough to hear him, or it was maybe because if anyone knew Raimonds better him or his sister, it was Chesa.

“Chesa. I saw Mia and Raimonds making out.”


	10. chapter seven

Chesa is uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the tower. Together, she and Pyry have walked Raina to the Academy’s parking lot about 15 minutes ago, where Raina stubbornly insisted that she could walk herself home,  _ thank you, but your worrying is pointless _ , and that they better go home as well.

As expected, Chesa argued with her, insisting that they were willing to walk Raina home. Raina refused, again, and that was that. They watched her walk away until they couldn’t see her anymore, then Chesa pulled him back into the main building. 

They have passed through the field, headed straight to the iron fence separating the school grounds from the woods dotting its western border, and finally entered the copse of trees through a gate conveniently camouflaged against the metal.

Chesa knows her way through the trees well. She seems to follow a well-worn path, slightly discernible in the dimness offered by the thick canopy overhead and the weakening brightness of the sky, but Pyry chooses to stick as close to her as possible. He doesn’t know if the path forks or turns suddenly; he doesn’t fancy finding himself lost in this wood.

It doesn’t take them long until the trees give way to a wide clearing. The first stars are out, peeking shyly through the sparse clouds in the dusk sky, all seeming to frame the clock tower’s lone spire.

“It’s…” Pyry begins, breathless from the trek, “it kind of looks disappointing. I mean, it’s just a stone tower with wooden platforms sticking out its sides.” He shoots Chesa a cautious glance. “Why would you theater kids hang out here?”

“Why not?” She glances back at him, something akin to mischief twinkling in her dark eyes. “It’s the perfect place to lose yourself in. You know it, Pyry. The magic of Shakespeare’s theater. In this wood, in this clearing, and up in that tower, we feel isolated. Invincible.”

_ But not immortal,  _ Pyry thinks, his gaze flicking towards the tower’s entrance. It’s taped off with yellow caution tapes, the brightness of it strikingly contrasting against the dull stone and the few vines of ivy snaking across it. A former sanctuary, now a place where someone died.

“It was murder.”

His eyes widening, he turns sharply to her. Her gaze is fixed at the tower, unseeing. “What do you mean?”

“It was murder,” Chesa repeats in the same leveled tone, “Viktor’s death was a murder. Raimonds’ coma isn’t an accident. Someone killed them. Wanted to kill them. Or maybe not just a single person, but a whole group of them.”

“Chesa…” He wills her to look at him, but she isn’t tearing her gaze off the tower. It’s like she’s seeing the night of the accident itself play before her very eyes. Or, maybe she’s using her acting skills to play a sick joke on him, some kind of stupid initiation into the Academy.

Pyry kind of wants to slap her across the face, snatch her out of her sudden reverie.

She blinks once, and the episode’s over. “What?” she asks.

“You were kind of spacing out just a minute ago. Are you okay?” Does she perhaps bear trauma from that night? Now he realizes that, maybe, Raina isn’t the only one deeply affected by what happened. Maybe their little group’s relationships with one another run deeper than friendship.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Chesa sighs heavily, her gaze lowering to the grass. “I just… can’t believe it? You get that? That was Viktor’s graduation day. The party was a surprise we’ve thrown for him. That morning, we were all happy, because one of us is finally…”

How quickly things have become awkward. Pyry admittedly knows next to nothing about comforting other people, especially those who’ve just lost their friend recently, so the only thing he offers Chesa is a sincere, soft pat on the shoulder. To her credit, though, she doesn’t look close to tears.

“That night changed lots of things,” she adds when he doesn’t say anything in return, her voice taking on a harder edge. Her shoulder tenses under his touch. “But I’m really, really sure. It wasn’t entirely an accident. Someone wanted to kill either Raimonds or Viktor.”

There she goes again. Pyry drops his hand, nibbles on his lower lip gently. Half of him is exasperated at her claim—because they are high school students, and why will they think of murder at this age?—yet half of him is intrigued. What if it’s true?

“I don’t think you should make claims without concrete proof, Chesa,” he says quietly.

She shakes her head vehemently. “No, no. I’m sure.” What evidence she has on her, she doesn’t disclose. Instead, Chesa whirls to face him again, her expression urgent. “Okay. I know I’m creeping you out right now, but you have to know.”

“Know what?” The urge to run away and head straight to sleep gets stronger every second.

“They said it was an accident. Raimonds and Viktor fell off the tower, and everyone was too intoxicated two floors down to even notice. A second year found stumbled on their bodies when he went down to throw up, and that was when the party was shut down, the authorities were called. Raina wasn’t there. Because Viktor and I brought her home earlier that night.” She takes a deep breath, and doesn’t speak after that.

Pyry takes about three steps back, surprised at how she easily poured out the facts, and also surprised at the details. It’s sickening, but he can’t find himself shying away from them. He wants to know what happened. “And then?”

“There were other things which happened before that.” Chesa grimaces. “Some of them I don’t remember exactly because of the alcohol, but I remember slapping Mia hard. On her pretty face.”

“You did  _ what  _ to Mia?”

“I slapped her. When we got back from Raina’s dorm.” Strangely, she looks proud of what she’s done, though, as the grimace is now replaced by a smirk. “Because she kissed Raimonds, and she wasn’t supposed to do that.”

It clicks. “Why, because you wanted Raimonds for yourself?” Raimonds had a boyfriend, he knew that, but Chesa isn’t exactly is being discreet. A sudden, intrusive thought crosses his mind, and it sends shivers down his spine. “Wait.”

“I didn’t want him for myself.” She searches his face for a moment, taking in the mixture of surprise and horror in it. “I love him, sure, but I also knew that he’d never look at me in the same way. And I love Viktor like an older brother, too, the same way I love Raina and Alfred. Hell, even Erik and Mia.

“But she crossed a line she couldn’t cross, so I slapped her.” In the end, Chesa shrugs. She meets his gaze again. “Before all of that, I was talking to him. And then—” Her phone rang, sudden and shrill. They both started at its sound.

She fished it out of her skirt pocket, pressed it to her ear. There wasn’t any chance for Chesa to speak. Pyry watched as her expression went from somber, to alarm, then to disbelief. The phone, its screen still lit, slid from her hand. It dropped onto the grass with a dull thud.

_ Alfred Jones,  _ the screen read.

Pyry blinked. “What happened?”

Chesa looked like a dying fish. Her mouth gaped open, then closed again. It was comical, if not for the atmosphere being so thick it threatened to drown someone.

“Raimonds is dead.” 


	11. chapter eight

 

Either someone had lowered the music’s volume, or Mia was just losing it. There was a faint ringing in her ears, and there was the deafening thundering of her pulse. Her earlier intoxication was ebbing, being replaced by a terrible fear she has never felt before.

She knew that she messed up. That this night was probably the pivotal point of her rather uneventful high school life, and that things would never be the same again

Or, probably, she was just overthinking things. This was the mixture of alcohol and anxiety speaking; it wouldn’t happen if she could help it.

“We can head out now,” Erik said, muffled through the haze coating her senses, and it took Mia a few seconds before it registered that he was addressing her. “You can talk to them next time.”

She shook her head weakly. “No. I have to do it now.”

“You are all drunk and out of your minds. Give it a few days.”

“I know! But I don’t want to leave it like this.” Like a fresh wound left untreated, she thought bitterly, it would fester into something worse. “I just want to talk to Viktor, explain to him what exactly happened.”

He reached for her hand, giving it a light pat. Despite the worsening bout of anxiety, Mia felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude for her cousin. Even without words, she knew that Erik understood her, and he would take her side no matter what happened.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Mjaðveg,” he reminded her softly. His fingers slipped out of her grasp, and through her peripheral vision she watched him turn his gaze upward, at the sparse stars in the black sky. “Think of what you would tell Viktor once he comes back. I think Chesa’s with him right now, bringing Raina home.”

She had forgotten entirely about Raina. Now that Mia thought about it, she hadn’t seen the shorter brunette since the first hour of the party. “Did something happen to her?”

Erik nodded minutely. “She’s made of weak stuff, remember?” he remarked, but it was in jest. “Probably more exhausted than usual. One sip and she was dizzy.”

Mia’s response was forgotten when something emerged out of the copse of trees. His hair was a dull blonde under the dimness of the stars and the lights of the tower, but his glasses glinted. He looked up directly at them, and his grin was brighter than everything else.

“Alfred’s got it.” Erik took her gently by the arm, guided her away from the cool outdoors and back into the party.

Mia’s brows furrowed, but she let herself be led nonetheless. “Got what?”

For a moment, she thought she saw Erik tense. He didn’t look back. “Nothing much. Let’s meet him in reception.”

Her anxiety bubbled. Was her cousin beginning to hide something from her now? Exactly at this moment, when she was confused and terrified of what would happen next?

Alfred was smoking a cigarette when they found him in reception, a lazy grin around it. Strangely, there were leaves stuck in his hair, and his shirt was smeared with something dark.

He held out a paper bag towards Erik. “I slipped on a branch and all the sap clung onto me,” he said, nodding down at his soiled shirt, “but all these are good as new.”

Erik wordlessly took the bag, and took a quick peek. Everything happened too quickly for Mia; she hadn’t had the chance to steal a look when her cousin thrust the bag back into Alfred’s waiting hands.

His hair fell like a curtain over his face as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Are Chesa and Viktor back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Erik answered. He glanced at Mia out of the corner of his eye, and added, “Mia doesn’t want to go home yet.”

Alfred snickered. “Stuck on babysitting, eh?” He met Erik’s eyes for a moment, then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll meet you upstairs. See ya, Mia.” When he walked past her and up the stairs, Mia caught a whiff of a strange smell.

So that was not a cigarette after all. Surprised, she whirled towards Erik. “Alfred smoked weed?” she asked incredulously.

To her surprise, her cousin answered with a chuckle. “Occasionally.” Something in Mia told her that something was off, but she couldn’t tell which.

_ All these worrying and theorizing is exhausting. _

“There you are.”

That was Chesa’s voice.

Involuntarily, a smile painted itself on Mia’s face. She turned towards it, eager to explain, make things right.

“This is for kissing Raimonds.” Chesa’s palm landed on her cheek with a sharp crack. Both Erik and Viktor winced.

Through the stinging pain, Mia cupped her injured cheek. “I’m really sorry—” Her eyes frantically flicked towards Viktor, who was purposefully not meeting her gaze. “I didn’t mean it, Viktor. I don’t like Raimonds that way! I thought he was someone else.”

“Someone else?” Viktor asked in a low voice, almost inaudible from the pounding in Mia’s ears. He slowly, perhaps painstakingly, finally met her gaze. It was full of hurt and betrayal, and the gravity of what she’d done crashed over her like a tidal wave. “Who, Mia?”

Mia burst into tears. “Raina! I thought it was Raina talking with Chesa! I was too drunk to see Raimonds’ face clearly, okay?”

Chesa took a step back, the fury on her face melting into something between concern and sadness. Erik didn’t seemed surprised. Viktor almost laughed at the twisted hilarity of it.

“What the fuck, Mia, why didn’t you ever tell us anything?” asked Chesa.

“So you were upstairs with Raimonds too, Chesa?”

Chesa shifted her attention from Mia to Viktor. “I wasn’t kissing him, so don’t even think about it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, and made a frustrated sound. “But, seriously? We’ve all been worked up over a misunderstanding? Now we all just have to—”

“Guys,” Erik cut in abruptly. “Where’s Raimonds?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA DO I STILL HAVE ANYTHING TO LOSE? NOPE. : D Enjoy the subsequent chapters, suckers! < 3


End file.
